


Shattering Expectations

by This_Time_I_Wont_Regret_My_Username



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Canon Timeline/Ages/Family Trees Are All Switched Up, Character Death, Child Abuse, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Happily Ever After, Harry Potter & Colin Creevey Friendship, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Violence, Not so one-sided attraction, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Plot Twists, Tags May Change, Time Skips, Unrequited Love, but we love him anyways
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Time_I_Wont_Regret_My_Username/pseuds/This_Time_I_Wont_Regret_My_Username
Summary: She used to be a princess, fiery and naive, but all things change. She married and grew into a woman. Her son was her prince, awkward and not at all as well spoken as he should've been. He grew up hearing tales about a family of three who lived in their kingdom. They lived outside the walls, surviving on hardly anything, when one day the stories stopped. His life went on - as naive as his mother before him - and met someone who could've come straight from a storybook.And that's just it. They weren't just stories. The Potters weren't fairytales and there is, and always will be, more to the story than meets the eye.(7/7/18: I rewrote the summary - hope it fits the story better now!)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the plot of Aladdin to write this. "Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat" is a line I use in this, but it's originally from the song "One Jump Ahead" in Aladdin.  
> I don't own Harry Potter or Disney's Aladdin. Obviously, I wouldn't be here if I did. Note (April 28, 2018): The original one-shot has been divided up into a multi-chapter story to better fit the story flow I am hoping to achieve.

A child with blond hair and brown eyes sat in front of his young mother, listening to her tell a story, all of his attention devoted to her words. She was the prettiest lady he'd ever seen. Even her name—Ginevra—was pretty.

"They were the most honest people I had the pleasure of meeting, despite having so little in their life. It was amazing to see all of the great things they'd done without having all the possessions we do," she said softly, her red hair sweeping over her shoulders as she leaned forward and brushed her son's hair out of his eyes.

He gaped at her.

"How?" he asked in his tiny, adorable voice.

"I . . . I don't really know. I don't think I'd still be in this palace if I did, but then I wouldn't have you," she said truthfully.

Her precious child was the only great thing to come from everything that had happened six years ago, when she had been forced to marry a man she did not love. But if he is what she got in return, she did not mind living in a loveless marriage.

"Do you think you'll ever see them again, mother?" her son asked, his brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Ginevra bit her lip as her heart stuttered in her chest.

 _No_ , she thought.  _I won't ever see them again._

"Maybe," she said instead, smiling as the boy's face lit up and he stood up quickly, running up to his mother and hugging her tightly.

She wrapped her arms around him as he tried to climb into her lap. She pulled him up so he could rest his head on her shoulder, and she stroked his hair.

"I'm so happy you're here, mother," he said. He was always telling her that she was beautiful or that her smile was better than a million others.

He was sweet, and Ginevra was thankful. She had been so worried that he'd be like her husband or her brother Ronald.

She didn't know what she did to deserve her little angel, but Ginevra was eternally grateful for her husband, if only because he helped make her tiny miracle. She did care for her husband, yes, but it was very difficult to forgive him for everything he had done.

She held her blond boy closer and couldn't help but think about a woman who once had a child, a baby boy much like her own, and her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

 _It's not my fault,_  she thought, believing that she was lying to herself. Maybe she was.

* * *

Six Years Ago

Ginevra stared at the gardens below her from the balcony of her bedroom, arms resting on the stone railing. She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed, as she watched her brothers run around the garden. They were acting like children, and they were older than Gin'. She was certainly not a child, at age eighteen and soon to be married.

Well, as soon as she met her suitor, that is.

Gin' was bored with all the men who came to her. She wanted someone exciting, who could make her laugh and sweep her off her feet. She knew it was ridiculous, but she didn't want to ask Fleur—her brother William's wife—about realistic marriage, because she just didn't like the blonde woman.

Her other brothers were all married, but not exactly to respectable women, like Fleur at least was. There was Hermione, Ronald's wife, and she was too annoying to be a lady. Angelina was wedded to George; she was pregnant every ten months and it seemed rather improper to Gin'. Charlie was known for stealing girls' hearts, but then he settled with a tramp by the name of Penelope. Perseus was engaged to marry someone named Luna, who Gin' had met only once and instantly disliked because the woman was simply too odd.

Even Fred had been married to a Miss Katie—before they both fell ill and died when Gin' was ten years old. Ginevra's mother herself was also dead, so there was no point in looking for help  _there_.

That left Ginevra to be the last one to marry, and she had to do it soon. She wanted to get someone witty or intelligent, but her father put his foot down after she rejected her tenth suitor.  _He_  was choosing her fiancé now, and Gin' had no say in it.

It was  _so_  unfair.

Ginevra turned away from her brothers with a drawn-out sigh, about to go back inside her bedroom to try to find something to occupy herself with, when something glinted in the corner of her vision.

Intrigued, Gin' turned, and found herself staring out at the vast town outside the palace. She'd never been there; her father didn't permit it after the death of her mother. She knew she shouldn't even entertain the idea of going past the walls surrounding the palace, but she couldn't help but imagine.

She bit her lip as she thought about it. With every passing moment, sneaking out of this boring palace might be the most exciting thing she could possibly do to cure her boredom. She knew exactly who to go to. Sometimes having brothers was great.


	2. Chapter Two

"So, let me get this straight, you want me to basically hoist you over the wall while our father is distracted?" George asked, staring at her incredulously as he held his—what was it, his sixth? Seventh?—child.

"Yes. Exactly," Gin' said firmly. George grinned, and she knew she was going to get what she wanted.

"Alright. I can do it this afternoon," her brother agreed, and Ginevra nodded shortly before walking back to her room to pack.

She was going to need so many things to prepare herself. And she definitely couldn't leave her jewels behind; she needed those. Oh, and her silk scarves!

In all of her excitement, Gin' had probably forgotten that she was supposed to meet the man she was to marry that night. She could be blamed, but George also forgot about it, so she was excused.

All that he knew was that she was  _leaving the walls_  and she was going to have fun. Once he hoisted her over the wall, he stared at the rope in horror as he realized what he just did.

Looking down at two of his younger children, Fred and Lucy, they gave two dopey expressions. They threaded their tiny fingers through his in response to his sigh.

"Don't ever tell your mother about this," George said, and he got two "yes, father"s in return.

* * *

Ginevra had seen a lot of wonderful things in her life, being a princess and all, but the marketplace in her kingdom was spectacular. It was chaotic, and people were everywhere, but it was everything she'd been missing her entire life.

Of course, there were men who eyed her like she was their next meal, and the vendors were a little too smelly for her to fully appreciate what they were selling, but she thought she could deal with it. There were so many colors that even the dead animals looked amazing.

She noticed that the crowds of buyers thinned in the places where it was dark, and narrow alleys branched off from those areas and led to even darker places. She shuddered as she thought about what might be down there.

It was in one of these shaded areas that she saw a little boy sitting on the hard ground, staring up at a food seller with puppy-dog eyes.

"Please, sir, just a bite," he begged.

He couldn't have been older than six, and yet she watched the vendor spit in this child's face before raising his large hand and bringing it down on the kid's head. The boy staggered and sunk to the ground, whimpering as he coward before the man.

Ginevra was beyond furious. It was unacceptable to abuse a kid like that!

She shoved past the few stragglers in front of her and came to a stop in front of the vendor, staring up into his face with a curl on her lip. As tempting as it was to slap him, she wasn't stupid. She couldn't just  _hit_ someone.

"How much is a loaf of bread?" she asked as politely as she could.

He looked at her with a glint in his eye she'd seen a few times in her suitors, and she was disgusted.

 _This man_  is  _disgusting_ , she amended silently.

"For you, three reales." The way he said it made it seem like he was doing her a favor.

It was probably overpriced, but she wasn't about to argue; she just wanted to offend him.

She raised an eyebrow and reached into her bag, pulling out the string of jewels she had brought with her. She really didn't need them.

"Then this should be enough for ten loaves, and a few apples," she said, her voice and stance unwavering.

The man flushed darkly and took the jewels from her. He turned to his cart and gave her the food, much to her pleasure, all the while glaring at her. Of course, she'd probably just fed his family for a month, but she humiliated him in front of a few other vendors, and clearly bought the food for the kid who he just assaulted.

She stuffed the food in her bag.

"Thank you," Gin' said sweetly, before she turned to the little boy who'd been watching them with wide eyes.

She leaned down and reached a hand out for him to grab.

"Hello. I want to help you," she said softly, her hair falling around her face as she smiled softly at the boy.

He tentatively grabbed her hand, and she pulled him to his feet quite easily.

"Do you have somewhere where I can put all of this bread down?" she asked quietly, and he nodded, seemingly lost for words, before he pulled her down the street.

She giggled and kept up with him, eyeing everything that they passed.

The sky was blood-red with the setting sun, the temperature dropping as it got darker. The shadows grew longer and she became slightly uneasy. The kid seemed to be perfectly fine, though, and she trusted him more than herself at the moment.

"My name is Ginevra," she said, and the kid looked over his shoulder, flashing a small smile.

"Hello, Gin'," he said, probably shortening her name because it was easier for him to say. "I am Colin."

"Colin, huh?" she asked, smiling slightly. "That's a nice name."

"Yes, thank you," Colin said, and remained silent for the rest of their walk.

The buildings on either side of them grew taller and wider as they neared what Gin' could only assume was the area with the most housing. Clotheslines were hanging above them, crossing from one window to another, blocking out the stars like a canopy.

Colin kept winding down the street until the reached one of those dark, narrow alleys that gave Gin' the creeps. She hesitated, and Colin turned to look at her.

"It is okay. My family is here," he said reassuringly, nodding with a tiny smile on his face.

She bit her lip and continued to walk with him, and they came to a stop a few yards from where they entered.

Sleeping against the buildings, huddled together for warmth, was a group of people who Colin must've considered his family. A hand landed on Ginevra's shoulder and she turned sharply, startled.

It was like she was looking in a mirror, except the woman who was staring back at her was much thinner and had green eyes.

"I saw what you did for Colin. I wanted to thank you," the woman said, and Gin' relaxed. Colin's hand slipped out of hers. She saw him gently stirring the people awake.

"I'm sure you would've done the same thing," Gin' said. The woman, practically dressed in rags, was making her slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, no, because I don't have the wealth to do that. Gotta eat to live—"

"Gotta steal to eat," a dark-haired man came up behind her and finished her sentence, as if they'd said it before. "We probably would've just distracted the vendor and stole the food. But yes, we would've helped Colin in our own way," he said.

"Ah," Gin' said, at a loss for words.

Both the man and woman wore similarly amused expressions on their gaunt faces.

"I'm Lily Potter," the woman said, saving Gin' from any awkwardness. "This is my partner, James Potter," she continued, nodding to the man.

"I'm Gin'," the princess said and Lily nodded, as if her name explained everything.

"You brought food, right?" James asked, and Ginevra started handing out the loaves of bread to the ten-or-so people in the alley.

Colin came up to her, grabbed some without a word, and started passing the bread out. Normally, Gin' would be appalled at his lack of manners, but the people here were clearly starving.

She also had a soft-spot for the little brunette.

Lily plopped herself down next to a bundle of blankets, and James took a seat opposite of her. He reached into the blankets and brought out a baby. There was a living  _human being_  in a tiny blanket that probably didn't offer any warmth. Ginevra couldn't help but stare.

James cradled the child in his arms as Lily tore up the bread into tiny pieces.

"Sit with us," Lily said, her tone not offering any argument.

Gin' awkwardly did as she was told, sitting in front of the three of them and trying not to wince as she eyed the dirty ground. This was one of her best outfits.

Not that Gin' didn't bring a spare.

"This is my son, Harry," Lily said, tilting her head toward the child in James's arms. "Normally, Alice—the woman sitting next to Colin—takes care of him when I am busy," she continued.

Gin' looked behind her and sought out Colin, and saw a dirty woman sitting next to him. She was laughing and staring at the bread as if it was a miracle. Gin' supposed it might be a one to her.

"She seems nice," Ginevra said, for lack of anything else to say.

She looked at the couple again. James was nodding and handing Harry over to Lily.

"Alice isn't able to have children," James said. "But she wanted to. She's always willing to take care of Harry for us."

Gin' frowned a bit and looked at Alice again, taking in her appearance. In the palace, the women were practically only there to have kids—it's what they were born to do. But Alice didn't look like she was ashamed or embarrassed for being infertile (Gin' assumed).

In fact, Alice looked happy as she carefully nibbled on the bread. It was like she was just grateful for the food she had and the people around her.

"When I was younger," Gin' started to say, slowly. "I always disliked children. I'm not quite sure how to take care of them." She didn't know why she was saying it, really, but she did anyways.

Abruptly, Lily leaned forward pushed Harry into Ginevra's arms, much to her surprise. She nearly dropped the baby, but then Lily's hands were there to guide Ginevra's arms into place.

Gin' was transfixed on the baby in her arms. He had small tufts of messy black hair on his head, his lips naturally formed into a pout. He was the most adorable thing Gin' had ever seen.

Her hair fell down around his tiny body, like a curtain. She held him a little closer, enjoying the warmth he brought.

Her heart melted when Harry sneezed and opened his eyes slowly. They were bright green, like Lily's, and he smiled at her with his tiny little mouth. She fell for the precious little angel in her arms.

"Oh," Gin' whispered in surprise.

She heard Lily chuckle.

"Babies are not so bad," James said.

Ginevra nodded.

"How old is he?" Gin' asked, her voice quiet and awed.

Harry was grabbing at her hair with tiny fingers, yanking gently.

"Six months," Lily said proudly.

Gin' lifted her head and grinned at the other woman, somehow feeling closer to her now that she'd held the woman's child.

"We got lucky. Harry's a good baby and sleeps all the time, see," James informed Gin'.

She smiled softly and looked down at the green-eyed boy, only to find that he was asleep again, and Gin' realized that she'd been rocking him as she held him.

"When Colin was born, he cried all the time. I was closer to your age at that time," Lily said, amusement in her voice.

"I-I never knew that this is what it's like," Gin' told them, looking back and forth between them with large eyes.

She wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about.

Lily and James shared a look, one heavy with unsaid words.

"Yes, we realized that," James said, not unkindly.

He held out his arms, and Gin' gently handed his baby back.

"Look, Gin', I'm going to be honest with you," Lily said. "It's probably best if you go back to wherever you came from. You don't belong here."

Gin' stared at her. She felt strangely sad at the thought of parting from Lily, James, and Harry. She bit her lip, then reached into her bag. She'd brought so many luxurious things that she didn't need.

Ginevra handed Lily the expensive scarves she'd taken with her. Lily stared at them in amazement.

"Here. So you . . . so you don't get cold," Gin' said.

A tear ran down Lily's face, which she hastily wiped away, and smiled weakly at her. Gin' stood before turning away from the couple. She didn't think that she could touch someone so deeply just by giving them a gift.

"Colin!" James called, and the boy came running.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"Will you take Gin' back to the market?" James asked softly, and Colin eagerly nodded.

He grabbed Ginevra's hand and started forward quickly.

As they neared the end of the alley, she glanced back to Lily to see her wrapping Harry delicately in the scarves to keep him warm. Ginevra smiled to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome!


	3. Chapter Three

Getting over the wall without help was a lot harder than Gin' thought it was going to be. After about fifteen minutes of grunting and sweating, she finally hoisted herself back into the gardens. She spent another five minutes panting in the grass, lying on her back.

It was probably around midnight when she was able to climb the rope George had left for her to get back into her bedroom. She was panicking slightly, because she hadn't planned on being gone for so long, or to have given away some of her most prized possessions. Someone would notice both her absence and the disappearance of the jewels.

 _Oh, well,_  she thought.

She quickly prepared herself to sleep, cleaning herself up. She felt much more refreshed after bathing and brushing her hair until it shined.

She was just about to lay down when there was a rapping at her door, and she nearly yelped. There was a heavy weight in her stomach as she approached the door, her heart pounding in her chest.

Ginevra hesitantly opened the door, peeking her head out first. She gulped.

Her father was scowling down at her, a dangerous glint in his eyes that she'd seen only once before when Charlie had announced his engagement to a commoner.

"Hello, father," Gin' said meekly.

She curtsied, as her father always preferred her to do in greeting. She'd learned day after day how to act like a lady in the presence of her father, and then how to  _be_  a lady in the presence of a suitor. They were two different things.

 _Oh. The suitor. Oh, no_ , she thought, her heart thundering now.

"Ginevra, our guest has been waiting for two hours. Two hours!" her father growled as she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, father, I-I forgot—"

"Ginevra, that doesn't matter to him!" he hissed, sounding frantic.

Gin' looked up at her father, confused. "Get dressed into something appropriate and come to the sitting room immediately!" he ordered, and left quickly.

Her father seemed . . .  _frightened_ , and that made Gin' afraid, too.

* * *

Meeting her suitor was one of the oddest experiences of her life. He was possibly a few years older than herself, with neatly-groomed white-blond hair. His skin was smooth and the color of alabaster; he was most likely a foreigner. Even his clothing was different from hers.

Ginevra took in his appearance with widening eyes. Well, she supposed that he looked intelligent. There was  _that_.

"Princess Ginevra," he greeted, a small, amused smile on his face.

He had an accent; she could hear the slight lilt in his words. As she neared him, she noticed that his eyes were a beautiful gray color, but they remained cold and closed off even as she offered her kindest smile.

"Ginevra, this is Lucius Malfoy," her father said, standing off to the side.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mister Malfoy," Gin' said, seriously meaning every word.

Something in his posture frightened her.

 _How can I marry a man like this?_  Gin' wondered desperately.

"Please call me Lucius, Ginevra. We are going to be married," he stated.

His voice was like cold water as it washed over Gin'. She couldn't place his accent, but she  _could_  hear the annoyance in his voice. She looked towards her father with panicked eyes. She didn't know what to do; it was like Lucius had robbed her of all thought.

Her father, the most powerful and influential man she knew, averted his gaze and fidgeted with his thumbs. He didn't know what to do, either. She was on her own. She took a breath and willed herself to respond politely and intelligently, like she was taught to do.

Lucius was just a man. She grew up with seven of those.  _Everything is fine._

* * *

Ginevra cradled a six-month-old Draco in her arms, cooing as she smiled down at him. He was her entire world, the light of her life.

She'd been married to Lucius for a year before she got pregnant. As cold as Lucius was most of the time, when she told him he was going to be a father, his entire face lit up with joy and excitement. It was the first time she'd seen him so happy.

It made Gin' decide that she could learn to love him, if he could love his child as much as she did.

Her hair fell down around Draco, like it did two years ago when she held Harry. She wondered what Lily and James were doing. If Lily was holding Harry in her lap? If Colin was still begging for scraps?

It made Ginevra's heart ache as she thought of their thin frames and gaunt faces. She hoped that they were still out there, alive and well.

Draco sneezed, and Ginevra's attention was drawn back to her brown-eyed boy.

* * *

Ginevra Malfoy was rocking Draco back and forth in his cradle when she heard Lucius's voice from the hallway. She was in her bedroom after trying—and failing—to get some rest as Draco finally fell asleep. She was too tired to move from the bed, but she couldn't sleep.

"—What are they in for?" Lucius's voice drifted down the hall and through the open bedroom door.

Ginevra's curiosity spiked.

"Thievery." Gin' knew that voice: it was Ronald's.

She didn't know why he was taking to Lucius; the two of them could hardly stand each other.

"What did they steal?" Lucius drawled.

That was his impatient voice.

"Multiple apples, loaves of bread, and scarves," Ronald replied.

Ginevra felt her heart jolt. The words sparked something in her memory of Colin, passing out bread; of Lily, wrapping Harry in beautiful, expensive scarves; of all their faces lighting up with joy at the sight of a fresh meal she gave them.

"Are they being fed?" Lucius asked after a short pause.

"No," Ronald replied, without hesitating.

"Good. If they're coughing, I don't want to waste resources on them," her husband said, and she could imagine him nodding curtly.

Her stomach rolled as her horror grew, the words Lucius had said repeating in her head.

"The guards . . ." Ronald trailed off.

He sounded rather uncomfortable.

"Yes, Weasley?" Lucius asked, his voice cutting through the pause.

"They told me that one of the women looks very much like Ginevra," Ronald said quietly.

Gin' had to strain her ears in order to hear him. As she registered the words, her heart constricted.

"So? My wife is not a tramp. Kill them, Weasley. I don't want to spend any more of my time on sick prisoners that happen to resemble my wife," Lucius snapped.

"Yes, of course, Malfoy," Ronald said.

Ginevra didn't want to listen anymore. She clamped her hands over her ears and rolled over on the bed, trying to get their conversation out of her head.

She knew who they were talking about, now. Lily could've passed for her twin. Gin' had given her scarves to the Potters—to Harry. She'd bought them bread and apples.

The death of the Potters was all her fault, she knew.

She also knew she'd probably never forgive Lucius for this, not even until the day she died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone forgive Lucius after this?


	4. Chapter Four

Fifteen Years Later

Draco didn't understand what his uncle George found so funny about his question. At sixteen years old, Draco was restless, which was understandable. He'd never been outside the walls—mainly because of his father—and he wanted to have an adventure.

It seemed perfectly reasonable to Draco that he ask his mischievous uncle to hoist him over the wall while Lucius was distracted.

And now George was laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Draco was both offended and embarrassed. He was blushing—something he had absolutely no control over, apparently.

"What's so funny?" Draco grumbled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

He'd already packed everything he was going to need.

"Like mother, like son," George said, wiping a tear away.

Draco stared at him in confusion, then shook his head. Hardly anyone knew what George was talking about half of the time, anyways.

"So, are you going to help me or not?" he asked, exasperated.

"Yes. I'm not exactly young anymore, though. I have to go fetch some of my offspring," George said, winking.

Draco nodded, feeling himself blush again, then proceeded to impatiently wait for ten minutes for George to come back.

"Fred, Lucy," Draco acknowledged with a tilt of his head as his uncle and cousins arrived in the garden.

It didn't take them long to get Draco over the wall; he was a pretty decent climber and very lean. He sat on the stone and looked back at his cousins and uncle.

Draco heard his cousins say: "We know; we are never telling mother about this," before he jumped down onto the other side of the wall.

_Free at last._

* * *

Walking through the marketplace, Draco was in awe. There were so many people, and it was so colorful, unlike the palace where everything was white.

The sky was dark by the time the crowds of people started to thin out, and Draco had bought many, many things that he probably didn't need. A jade necklace for mother, a comb for himself, some sort of card game for uncle George, a loaf of bread—just in case . . .

Draco was very distracted by the items in his arms, and was walking without looking where he was going. How was he supposed to know that someone would come running right in front of him, fleeing from the royal guards?

Draco's stuff was thrown to the ground when he collided with a brown-haired man, and was knocked on the ground as a black-haired peasant crashed into him from the side.

Draco yelped, pinned under the boy with black hair as the guards surrounded the three of them. They all looked very menacing—dark grins on their faces—until Draco shoved the man off of him and stood up, straightening out his clothing.

The two commoners were sitting on the ground, looking very displeased with Draco and each other. They couldn't seem to decide who to glare at.

The guards stopped, suddenly looking very frightened as they realized who Draco was. He eyed the items he'd bought, scanning the filthy ground for the jade necklace—

Draco shrieked.

"You idiots!" he yelled, addressing the guards.

It was something Lucius always told him; when you're angry, take it all out on your soldiers and not your people. "You shattered mother's new necklace!"

"W-we're sorry, sir!" said one of the shorter, younger guards.

He knelt in submission, his peers did the same. Draco wasn't used to the treatment, as it was always something that people did for his father and not him; he wasn't as important.

The two peasants were looking at him in amazement. Draco tried not to preen.

"We weren't aware that you are allowed out of the palace," another guard spoke up, and Draco turned his sharp brown eyes to him.

"Excuse me? Father explicitly told me that all of you imbeciles were informed that I was given new privileges!" Draco said haughtily, in his best impression of his father.

Of course, he was lying through his teeth, and if his family ever found out, he'd be dead, but he was having an adventure. An  _actual adventure._

"We're sorry, sir," chorused the guards.

"Well?" Draco snapped, hands on his hips. "What are all of you still doing here?"

"Sir, we caught these two stealing," one of the younger guards piped up.

Draco raised one pale eyebrow.

"Stealing what?" he inquired, crossing his arms.

"Clothing, sir," the guard replied.

"Is there proof of this, or were you just bored?" Draco drawled.

The peasants in question were staring at each other with wide eyes, still on the ground.

"We have proof!" the guard said, indignant.

Draco waited expectantly for the older man to actually  _show him_  the proof. When all he did was keep quiet, Draco scoffed

"Well? Where is it?" he asked, irritated.

It was really easy to be annoyed at the guards, and Draco now understood why Lucius was yelling at them all the time.

"Oh!" the guard blushed deeply as he realized what Draco had been waiting for. "It's somewhere on the ground, sir. The thief was carrying it when he bumped into you."

Draco looked down at the street, along with the other men, and saw lots of things there. The guard frowned, probably realizing that there were a lot of clothes on the ground.

Draco sniffed as he thought about the precious cloth he'd bought now filthy.

"It's that vest over there, sir," another guard said, pointing. Draco followed his gaze, and the peasants seemed to hold their breath as he stared at the vest in thought.

"No. I bought that for my uncle," Draco said.

He vaguely remembered picking it up. Or maybe he didn't. He wasn't quite sure, honestly. He'd stopped caring about the accusation at that point

"Perhaps it was that cloth hat then?" suggested yet another royal guard.

Draco shook his head.

"Oh, no. I purchased that for my cousin Fred," he said in dismissal.

The peasants looked faintly amused now, which made Draco try very hard to keep a smile off his face.

"Sir, there are so many things in the street that we can't be sure—"

"Well, then there's no point having you around, is there?" Draco cut him off, a cruel smile on his face.

He learned it from his father, to strike fear into the hearts of grown men. It was very useful, as the guard's face paled.

"I-I'm sorry?" he stammered.

"Get out of my sight," Draco said sharply, nose held high in the air.

The guards scrambled up and hastily fled, terrified expressions on their faces. Draco blinked, wondering if they ever bothered to move that quickly when they tried to capture thieves. Then, they might actually do their jobs correctly.

He turned to the peasants with a pleased expression on his face.

He was taken aback by the laugh the black-haired man gave. It sounded genuine and warm, and Draco's stomach flipped. The man's hands were on his knees, bent over slightly in his mirth, and Draco couldn't seem to stop staring at him.

He was captivated by the emerald green eyes of the other boy when they met his own brown ones. He felt a pull towards those green eyes, as if all of his hopes and dreams lay in them. His breath caught in his throat.

Draco opened his mouth to say something—he wasn't sure what—when the brown-haired, much more boring peasant spoke up and broke Draco's trance.

"Do we have to bow to you too?" he asked awkwardly, who looked slightly older than Draco himself.

Draco coughed and shuffled his feet.

"Um, no it's unnerving," he answered.

It seemed like the black-haired, green-eyed boy had stolen his use of proper speech as well as his breath.

"Oh, good," the boy chirped.

Draco was fifty percent sure he was being sarcastic.

"I'm Harry, and this is Colin," the boy introduced himself, bowing slightly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he added with a flourish.

 _Harry,_  Draco thought.  _Is it too soon to say I love you?_

"Draco Malfoy," he replied, holding his hand out for Harry to take.

He did, and Draco was afraid that he would never let go. At the same time, he didn't want to stop holding Harry's hand, but that would probably get very awkward, so he quickly dropped it. The tingling, warm feeling lingered on his palm.

"It's great to meet you," he added, a little breathlessly.

* * *

He meant it, even after Harry stole all of his money and his comb.

 _I really can't blame him,_  Draco thought as he hoisted himself up the wall separating the palace and the marketplace, hours later. _His hair really needed to be brushed, anyways._

Draco mourned the loss of his new comb (and Harry, not that he'd ever admit that out loud) for a moment before he got ready for bed.

He really wasn't as selfish as he seemed. It was just easier to pretend that he was, to be the way everyone expected.

He supposed that everyone had a mask that they wore; uncle Ronald wasn't as violent as he seemed; Lucius wasn't as indifferent as he pretended to be; mother wasn't really as spoiled as she played; aunt Hermione was a lot more, actually  _a lot_  more, chatty than she had to be.

Draco thought it was easy to pretend, to wear a mask for his father.

But then he thought of Harry, and he realized that Draco had gotten exactly what he saw: a boy who was charming and bitter at the same time. A boy who probably had to steal to eat.

Draco's brain froze for a moment, and then he recalled where he'd heard those words before. He thought back to when he was young, perhaps twelve, and Gin' was telling him about the Potters; the only kind people she'd met apart from her brothers George and Charlie.

_"One of the first things that Lily and James Potter told me was 'gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat.' They finished each other's sentences, like your uncle Fred and George used to do long before you were born," Gin' said, smiling softly._

_Her brown eyes were sad, and Draco assumed it was because Fred wasn't alive anymore._

Draco used to have this dream, when he was around six or seven years old, where he'd get to meet Harry Potter, the boy that Gin' said was a year older than Draco. Lily and James would be there, too. He'd be able to give them food, because he knew how much they needed it.

But Draco grew out of those dreams, believing that he'd never get the chance to see the Potters. It was a silly aspiration, to be able to help them like his mother once did.

Now, Draco stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, eyes wide open in shock.

 _I met Harry Potter . . . he stole my things. That counts as helping, right?_  he thought.

 _Yes. It should count for something,_  he reasoned, nodding.

He had to wonder: where were Lily and James? And was Draco able to help them, too?

He bit his lip, deciding that it didn't matter anymore.

 _As long as Harry is okay_ , Draco thought, remembering Harry's grin as he ran away from Draco, the stolen bag hanging off his shoulder.

 _It was worth it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of Draco's crush. Many thanks to Aya Diefair for nudging me in that direction!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the 'flashbacks.' I wasn't sure how to signify the change in memories and the conversation. So I used an emdash to do it.

Draco Malfoy may or may not have been pining for Harry Potter, even weeks after their meeting. He would sometimes sigh for no apparent reason, thinking about the thief he'd fallen so hard for. Draco had gained a little weight due to his habit to eat when he was upset. He tended to lock himself in his dimly-lit bedroom when his thoughts got to be too much.

He wasn't moping. No. What he was doing was a much more refined yearning worthy of a prince.

Draco was brushing his hair and trying his hardest to style it. His hair never wanted to cooperate with him and, normally, Aunt Hermione helped him because she herself had experience with hair troubles. He watched himself in the mirror, feeling calmer and more relaxed than he had in weeks. A sudden flash of red hair in the corner of his vision made him jump. He scared easily.

Gin' leaned against the wall by the door, staring at her son, not appearing to notice Draco's fright at her sudden appearance.

"What is it, mother?" Draco asked as calmly as he could, looking at her over his shoulder and trying to calm his thundering heart.

"You seem upset, Draco," Gin' said, cutting straight to the point like she always did.

"I'm fine. Really," Draco lied.

He managed to keep his composure even though he was internally moaning his woes in the hopes that his mother would hear them. He'd never see Harry again and all he wanted to do was  _tell_ someone.

"Draco. I am always here to talk, you know," Ginevra said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I know. I just. . . I'm not sure that you'd understand," Draco said quietly.

His shoulders slumped.

"I don't have to understand, Draco. I just need to be here," Ginevra replied softly.

She had a very good point. He nodded and his mother walked further into his room. Draco scooted over on the bench he sat on so his mother could sit next to him.

"So tell me. What's been plaguing you?" Ginevra asked.

She picked up a brush and sat behind Draco, brushing his hair back from his face.

Draco was thankful that he didn't have to face his mother. This was a lot harder than he thought.

"Well . . . I sort of snuck outside of the walls a while ago," Draco said timidly.

He heard Gin' snort, her brushing never ceasing. He took that as his cue to keep talking.

"And . . . I may have met someone," Draco continued, dread building in the pit of his stomach.

"Really?" Gin' exclaimed.

She sounded excited. Draco turned to look at her, confused. He wasn't  _allowed_  to meet people outside of the walls. She'd always discouraged him from the idea of marrying for love, mostly because he knew that she was forced to marry Lucius. If that wasn't a loveless marriage, Draco didn't know what was.

"Yes, but . . . " Draco trailed off, not quite knowing how to tell her that the someone he met was a  _man_.

"Well, who is he?" Gin' asked impatiently.

Draco startled so badly that he nearly smacked his mother in the face. She let out a soft  _oof_  as she leaned back so quickly to avoid Draco's hand that she practically fell off the bench. Draco would've felt bad about it, but he was too stunned to care. He didn't even realize that he'd knocked her over until she grabbed his shoulders in a tight grip to keep herself from falling on the floor.

"How did you know?" Draco asked, dumbfounded.

"Know what?" Gin' asked, sitting herself upright again.

She looked slightly annoyed with her son, trying to catch her breath again and adjusting her hair. Draco missed the times when his mother left her hair down, she hadn't done that in years.

"That I met a  _boy_!" Draco huffed, literally crossing his arms and pouting at her.

Gin' rolled her eyes.

"Dragon, it's something I've known since you were thirteen," she deadpanned, fixing him with a stare.

Draco blushed.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, glancing behind him, half-expecting to find his father standing in the doorway, looking like he was planning all the ways he'd kill Draco.

"You do not have to worry about your father," Ginevra said casually, sensing his thoughts and fiddling with the hairbrush, avoiding Draco's gaze.

"Oh, um, okay," he said.

He really didn't envy Lucius. Who knew what Gin' did to convince the man to overlook Draco's apparently obvious preferences?

"Draco," Ginevra said softly, picking up the brush again. "You know that you'll have to marry a woman," she all but whispered.

Draco bit his quivering lip. He  _knew_ , of course he did, but that's not what he wanted. He couldn't do that to his wife, or to himself. And could he even produce an heir? He didn't know. He sure as hell didn't want to find out.

"Mother . . . I can't," Draco said.

His voice broke on the last word. Oh, boy, now the tears were falling. He didn't want to draw his mother's attention to them, so he let them come.

"You have to, Draco," Ginevra said sternly.

He could hear the slight tremble in her voice, but he didn't turn to look at her. It broke Draco's heart to hear his mother basically take his father's side. He didn't know that he'd placed so much trust in her until she'd gone around him and told him to do the  _one thing_  he wouldn't do. It was even worse because she  _knew_  he couldn't go through with it.

"I. . . I know," Draco whispered.

Ginevra set the brush down and wrapped her arms around her son from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades. She was soft and warm, but it did little to comfort him.

"I'm sorry. Will you tell me about him?" she asked quietly.

Despite himself, Draco smiled softly. He grabbed his mother's hands, threading his fingers through hers. She snuggled closer to him. He wanted to push her away, to yell at her, but that wouldn't be productive for anyone.

"His name's Harry," Draco stated, a little dreamily.

It probably wasn't healthy that he got so distracted when he thought of the thief, but he couldn't help it. He was immersed in the memories—albeit brief ones—about the black-haired boy.

—" _Do you_ ever  _cut it?" Draco asked, lifting a hand to pull lightly on a strand of Harry's unruly black hair._

_Harry grinned and batted Draco's hand away, eyes alight with amusement._

" _Never," he said._ —

"He has black hair that looks like it'd be a nightmare to tame," Draco continued, grinning now, oblivious to the way his mother stiffened.

— _Draco walked next to Harry, precariously balancing all of his purchases as he tried in vain to shove them in his bag._

" _Here, let me help," Harry said, smiling charmingly at Draco._

 _He held the bag open wider so Draco could dump his belongings into it. Draco tried so very hard not to blush._ —

"He's kind," Draco told Ginevra.

Draco pushed away the thought that Harry had actually been stealing his stuff when he had "helped." He couldn't be mad at him. After all, Draco didn't really need any of those things and neither did his family.

—" _So. . . I take it that you're from the palace?" Harry asked, no trace of bitterness or resentfulness in his voice, only curiosity as he stared at Draco._

_They were sitting in a dark alleyway, away from the sun and the crowds. Colin had disappeared into a brothel earlier with a small fortune that had seemingly appeared from nowhere and hadn't come out in a while. Though Harry had explained that Colin was only there to see their sister in all but blood._

_Draco didn't dwell too much on that thought._

" _Yeah. Born and raised there," Draco said, somewhat awkwardly._

 _Harry had only hummed in thought, picking absently at a loose thread on Draco's bag._ Is it normal for people to sit so close together?  _Draco wondered. He could feel Harry's breath on his arm and shifted nervously._ —

"He's not judgemental," Draco said after a pregnant pause.

—" _I should probably get back home. My father will skin me alive if he finds out that I've been outside the walls," Draco said, only half-exaggerating._

_Harry looked up at Draco through his eyelashes, a blush tinting his cheeks._

" _It was great meeting you, Draco," Harry said softly._

 _He leaned up and wrapped his arms around a stunned Draco, and the blond closed his eyes momentarily at the warmth Harry provided in the rapidly cooling night._ —

Well, Draco knew now that Harry had only been stealing the rest of his money, but a guy could dream, right?

"His eyes. . . they're like emeralds, mother. I—he's so handsome," Draco said breathily.

He felt drained now that he'd said it all out loud. He held his mother's hands lightly in his own, looking at her thin fingers. He heard Gin' sniffle and—

His back was wet from his mother's tears.

"Mother? Are you okay?" Draco asked, twisting in her arms to look at her.

She was crying, but she looked so relieved, like a giant weight had been lifted off of her chest.

"Harry Potter?" she asked thickly, looking at Draco with wide eyes.

Draco nodded, and Gin' let out a sob.

"Mother?" Draco asked tentatively.

"Oh, Draco. I'm sorry that I never told you. . ." Ginevra said, wiping her eyes.

That was how Draco found out that Harry was an orphan and that he was supposed to be dead too. Somehow that felt worse than the bit about Draco's inevitable arranged marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what you think of Gin'. I wasn't too sure about her, so any thoughts are appreciated.


	6. Chapter Six

Draco would probably feel guilty for the rest of his life for doing it, but he just couldn't stay in the palace. He knew that if he disappeared, Gin' would probably be forced to have another child, and he was aware that she hated Lucius to the point of celibacy. He always assumed it was because Lucius was just an asshole in general, but then he realized that it was because Lucius had gotten Lily and James Potter executed.

Even with that knowledge, he couldn't just sit around and wait to be wed to a woman he didn't want. That wouldn't be fair to either of them, because he knew that there was someone who  _could_  love her that way. Who was Draco to deny that woman her happiness?

The thought was what led to him kissing his mother goodnight two weeks after their first and only conversation about Harry, packing his bag, and then sneaking out to the garden wall.

It was much easier to get over the stone when there was a rope to help him, but Draco managed well enough on his own. It only took him forty-five minutes.

Draco was well aware that he had no idea where Harry lived—if it was even a single place. All Draco could do was try and trace his steps back until he found what he was looking for.

It took a lot of wrong turns, a run-in with a questionable-looking man, and bruising his knees from tripping on the uneven cobblestone, but Draco finally stood in front of the shabby building that had been stuck in his memory for a month.

He scrunched his nose as he heard the most unpleasant sounds coming from inside, and he flushed deeply. The smell was awful; from weeks of use, the sheets the brothel had were simply thrown out instead of washed. Blood and sweat stained the cloth and Draco held his nose as he stepped around those. He didn't like to think much about the other substances on them.

Draco was starting to regret coming here, as soon as he stepped inside to see women in skimpy clothing just laying about, clearly in some sort of funk as they nodded numbly to the men who leaned down and whispered things in their ears.

The door shut behind him, and he nearly gagged. It was like all the fresh air had been zapped from the room and left him with the stench of alcohol and sweat, to name a few of the things he could pick up on. It was sickening, but it was how things worked. He didn't have any way to fix things, now that he couldn't just walk back to the palace and demand that his father change it.

He tried to block out the noises coming from the rooms both above and beside him as his eyes skimmed around the poorly lit room.

There was a staircase in the back of the room, being vomited on by a very drunk man. Draco was trying very hard not to turn back around and forget about all this. It was tempting to go back to his cousins and pretend nothing had happened, but he couldn't.

He couldn't do that to himself, or to whichever unfortunate woman got pushed into his arms. He couldn't leave, especially now, seeing where  _Harry's friend_  was living. He was going to fix that, without his family's help.

Draco's jaw set in resolve, and he looked around the room again, this time for a woman who might be wearing one of the necklaces Draco had bought for his family his first time in the market.

Draco had probably stood there for two minutes before he grew impatient and walked up to the nearest woman who was probably twice his age. She was draped over a couch, looking worn down, like she'd been beaten recently. Her blonde hair was plastered to her sweaty skin, covering up most of her nearly bare bosom. Draco wasn't sure if he should be worried or thankful.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked softly.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and she whimpered, twisting away from him. He frowned, but didn't try to touch her again.

"I'm looking for someone," he continued, and her eyes opened.

Her blues eyes were bloodshot, and Draco felt a wave of anger wash over him, directed towards all the men she'd ever been with. He couldn't explain where it came from, but she seemed so tired and he wanted to protect her.

She glared at him.

"Of course you are," she spat.

Draco realized too late how that must've sounded to her.

"No! No, I'm not—I didn't mean it like that," Draco stammered, flushing.

She raised a pale eyebrow at him, her eyes cold. He couldn't meet her stare, so he stared at the floor instead. Draco scrunched his nose; why did everything in there have to be so disgusting? He kept glancing back up at the woman, fidgeting nervously with his bag.

There was a very long pause before her eyes softened.

"Who is it?"

Her voice was gentle now. Draco suddenly felt very naked, like he'd just told her everything about himself in those few moments.

"Um, I'm not sure, actually. . . I only know that a boy named Colin Creevey visits her often?" he offered, rubbing his neck.

The woman took a moment to think, and then her face lit up. She smiled, and Draco nearly gasped. She looked so much healthier now.

 _She should smile more often_ , Draco thought.

"I know! You mean Astoria!"

Draco thought back on his conversation with Harry, and the name seemed vaguely familiar. He nodded slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I need to talk to Harry and, well, Astoria is my only connection to him," Draco admitted sheepishly.

The woman grinned, pleased by his answer. She stood up so quickly that she Draco jumped. Where she'd gotten the strength from, Draco didn't know. Or mabye she'd only been pretending to be ill? Draco honestly couldn't blame her if that was the case.

"You must be the boy that Colin mentioned," she said, then wandered to the stairs without elaborating.

Draco stared after her in confusion, then scurried to follow her as his body caught up with his brain.

"Wait . . . Colin mentioned me?"

The woman turned to him, smiling slightly.

"Blond, naive, rich, easy to steal from? Looks like you, kid," she quipped.

She even  _winked_. Draco stared at her as she turned and stepped over the man and his vomit on the stairs.

He quickly followed her, patting down his pockets as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, I am loving Narcissa.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst ahead!

Astoria was six years old.

Draco was horrified and disgusted until Narcissa Black—the blonde woman he'd first met—pulled him aside and said that the Blacks didn't let anyone touch a single hair on her head.

Draco relaxed at that.

"Astoria, would it be alright if Draco could stay here with you for a little while?"

Narcissa was soft and patient as she spoke to Astoria, explaining that Draco wasn't like the other men who went in and out of the brothel. The dark-haired girl seemed hesitant at first, but she eventually was convinced that Draco wouldn't do anything to her.

Draco tried not to feel hurt that Astoria didn't trust him. It wasn't a personal thing, who knew what the girl had seen? Still, he knew that he wouldn't hurt a fly, and that he could give off that impression wounded him a little bit.

He wanted to make her smile.

Draco walked up to the little girl and bowed so low the his hair brushed the floor. He heard Astoria giggle, a smile tugging at his own lips. He stood up straight with a flourish, then gently grabbed Astoria's hand and kissed it. She blushed and giggled again.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dearest Astoria," Draco said in his best impression of his uncle George.

"Wow, such a charmer," Narcissa commented sarcastically before she rolled her eyes and left Draco and Astoria alone.

Draco didn't exactly know how long he stayed with Astoria, playing games and chatting with the six-year-old, but it was probably around midnight when Colin finally came around. Draco wasn't quite sure how he had stayed awake, or how  _Astoria_  managed it either.

"Astoria!" Colin exclaimed upon entering Astoria's room.

Astoria shot up from the floor where she'd been attempting to braid Draco's hair and slammed into Colin's legs.

"Colin!" she squealed.

Draco smiled softly at the pair, noting how close they seemed. It was sweet.

"How's my little Storibook?" Colin asked loudly, leaning down and hoisting Astoria onto his hip.

Astoria giggled at the nickname. Colin's attention was completely on her as he affectionately tapped her nose, and Draco almost felt like he was intruding on something.

"I made a new friend!" Astoria said excitedly, her face glowing.

"Oh, yeah?" Colin asked, smiling slightly.

He glanced in Draco's direction, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Draco is like you! He's nice!" Astoria whispered as if it was some great secret.

Draco felt tempted to march down the hall and order the execution of all the—the  _customers_  who were serviced here; cradle Astoria against his chest; flee back to the palace.

But no, Draco couldn't do any of those things, so he settled on closing his eyes for a moment and exhaling slowly so he wouldn't scowl. He didn't want Astoria to change her opinion on him  _now_.

"Storibook, would you mind if I talked to your new friend for a minute?" Colin asked.

 _Colin is good with her_ , Draco thought absently as Astoria nodded her consent. Colin turned his gaze on Draco, and his heart sped up and his heavy breathing basically told Colin all he needed to know.

 _You know what? I'm just gonna go. . ._  Draco thought, but the words didn't quite leave his mouth. Was he even moving his lips? He had no idea. He didn't think that he'd like what Colin was going to talk to him about. No one had looked at him that way except his mother, minutes before she'd told him that he'd have to marry, despite knowing Draco couldn't do that to himself and the woman he was supposed to marry.

Draco hadn't seen Narcissa come back into the room, but she had and then Astoria was being passed between Colin and the woman like she was a cat. The little girl giggled and clung to Narcissa.

Draco wondered if Narcissa had a child. She would be a good mother.

"Draco," Colin said once the girls had left the room, voice low and heavy with unsaid words.

Suddenly, Draco wondered if he'd accidentally taken advantage of Colin's entire family and thrown two of them in the dungeons without knowing. What else could Draco have done to earn the dark gaze Colin turned on him?

"Uh, hi, Colin," Draco replied, fidgeting with his sleeves.

Lucius would've cuffed him on the back of his head and scolded him for it, but Draco bit his lip too. Lucius wasn't there to correct Draco's every mistake anymore.

The impact of what Draco had done settled on his shoulders in that moment, stunning him into silence. He had some of the worst timing, but better late than never, right?

Colin narrowed his eyes.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Colin hissed.

The blond was at a loss for words.

"Uh, I have to get married," he said.

Colin stared at him in distaste.

"So you came  _here_?" Colin gestured to the walls of the brothel, eyebrow raised.

Draco felt his cheeks heat up.

"No, I can't do it, so I left the palace," Draco said quickly, trying to recover from his embarrassment.

"Well, go  _back_ ," Colin said through gritted teeth.

Draco stared at him, feeling strangely hurt.

"Why?" His voice was small and nothing like the strong, powerful one he'd wanted to use.

"You can't be here. Do you know how difficult it is for Harry to look at you?" Colin asked harshly.

Draco flinched. He hadn't thought about that. Of course Harry wouldn't want to be around Draco. Ginevra and Lucius were responsible for the death of his parents!

Draco's shoulders slumped.

"He's—he's not strong enough to deal with that, no matter how much he'd like to pretend," Colin murmured.

Draco felt faint. He hadn't even considered that he might've been hurting Harry. Nothing the black-haired man had done with him had given him any sign that Draco had been hurting him. Then again, Draco didn't know Harry at all. Colin knew him better; cared for him more.

Draco suddenly felt like he'd somehow forced himself onto Harry. It was a horrible feeling and Draco's stomach churned.

Colin was still staring at him, his gaze heavy with blame and anger. Draco couldn't find any reason to be upset at Colin. The man was perfectly justified in his anger.

"I should go," Draco whispered, staring at the floor.

"Yes, you should," Colin said quietly.

Draco took a deep breath and hoisted his bag off the floor. He pulled the strap on his shoulder and left the room, brushing past Colin as he went.

He felt awful. The realization that he'd hurt Harry made him wonder how he could've been so selfish in the first place. He kept his head down as he left the brothel as quickly as he could.

He had nowhere to go. The world suddenly felt bigger than it had any right to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the sporadic updates and the cliffhanger! Please review! Do you guys have any guesses as to where it's going? Any feedback is appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco didn’t stop walking, even when he heard Narcissa and Astoria calling his name behind him. He finally had the opportunity to leave that awful place and he was only sorry that he couldn’t take Astoria with him.

He was turning the corner when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alley. Draco yelped and struggled against the grip on his forearm. And then he noticed that it was Harry who had grabbed him. Draco tensed under his touch, his arm uncomfortably warm where Harry's hand was.

"What’re you doing?” Draco asked awkwardly. Part of him wanted to stay there with Harry, but the more awkward and ashamed part of him wanted to pull away from the other man and just  _run_. Sure, he had nowhere to go and no one he trusted, but it was better than being in any position where he might hurt Harry.

"I’m taking you somewhere,” Harry replied, peeking around Draco to look at the street they’d come from.

 “But . . . but Colin said—”

“Oh, screw Colin and whatever he told you,” Harry replied. It was the exasperation in Harry’s voice that made Draco stop. Maybe . . . maybe Colin had lied to him?

"You’re sure?” he asked quietly. Harry turned to him and smiled slightly. He reached up and patted Draco on the cheek, causing the blond to blush.

" _Very_ sure,” Harry said, winking. Draco bit his lip, rubbed his neck, looked everywhere except Harry—

"Well, time’s up, let’s go,” Harry said abruptly, tugging Draco’s hand and pulling him into the street again.

Draco sighed and tried to catch up to the shorter man. He was somehow very bad at doing that. Maybe it was because he was trying to double-task by walking and  _not_ grinning like an idiot. It was very hard to do.

* * *

"It’s probably not what you’re used to, but welcome to where I live,” Harry said, collapsing onto a pile of blankets that Draco presumed was his bed. For some reason, that thought made Draco blush.

“It’s a lot more than I was expecting, honestly,” Draco admitted. Harry threw back his head and laughed.

"I appreciate the honesty,” he said, grinning. Harry’s house—for lack of a better word—was located in the back of an alley. Draco could see the practicality of it, no one could steal the small amount of items he had if they couldn’t even find his house. Still, Draco felt a bit uncomfortable in the back of a dark alley where he could very easily see himself dying.

“So . . . what did you take me here for?” Draco asked, shifting awkwardly.

He had no idea why Harry would take him there, especially if there had been any amount of truth to what Colin said. Looking at Harry made him feel a bit queasy, so Draco focused his attention on the, um, _room_ they were in. It was mainly just the three walls of the buildings surrounding them and a curtains where the fourth wall should’ve been. Inside was Harry’s bed and some containers Draco assumed Harry used to hold food and clothing.

"I brought you here because I know that Colin can’t find me,” Harry said, suddenly serious.

“What?” Draco asked, blinking.

"Colin is very . . . _possessive_ of me. Has been since we were kids,” Harry replied vaguely. He seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment before Draco cleared his throat.

"Tell me again, why are we in this secluded alleyway where we could die at any moment?" The words came out of nowhere. Draco was slightly shocked with himself for forming a sentence around Harry where he didn't stutter or pause for too long to be bearable.

"Right,” Harry said, blinking. “I wanted to know . . .” he trailed off. Draco waited. Harry took a deep breath, looking nervous.

“I wanted to know if you would show me what it’s like to kiss a prince,” he said, looking up at Draco through his eyelashes. Draco’s heart pounded. He flushed. He had no idea what to say . . . so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“How long have you been thinking of that one?” he joked, causing Harry to blush and roll his eyes.

“A while,” Harry replied honestly, a small smile on his face. They laughed for a moment before Draco calmed down and took Harry’s question seriously.

“I . . . wouldn’t mind it,” he murmured, looking at his feet. His eyes flicked up when he heard Harry stand, blankets rustling. His heart beat faster with every move Harry made. 

“I wouldn’t either,” Harry said. Draco’s eyes flicked up to the other man. He took a step forward. And another. Harry did too. 

Their lips met between them. Draco cupped Harry’s face and the black-haired man sighed, resting his hands on Draco’s waist. It wasn’t perfect, it was sloppy and tentative. Draco had never even been kissed, but it  _something._  He found that he liked the feeling of Harry's chapped lips against his own. He felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! It's unbeta'd and kind of rushed, but it's all I can do for now. Also, my apologies for the SUPER late update, I just moved over a continent and have been struggling to maintain both my mental and physical health. (I just ranted, didn't I?) Anyways, what do you think of the new chapter? I've forgotten where I'm going with this story, so we're all discovering it as we go! :D


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